Glass Fragments
by Panda musume
Summary: Because she is exhausted beyond belief; because she is so done with looking at gravestones and bullshit and home and herself. And she secretly wishes for summer and spring and winter and fall to come back; where she was just Kagura-chan; all dolled up in red Chinese dresses and mafia accents and innocence. /rated T/nonincest
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a new multi-chapter story, I guess. Well, I guess the most accurate term would be an experimental fic but. . .

This started out as a couple of lines I had in my phone, so I decided to play around with them on Word and voilá, this story was born.

Critiques are greatly appreciated.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GINTAMA IT BELONGS TO SORACHI HIDEAKI

Enjoy~

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Glass Fragments

Ch. 1: Bittersweet

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It is a numb and rainy day filled with the stench of blood and the carcasses of forgotten things; in a forgotten alley where the air tastes like bitter ashes and the rain falling down feels like heated knives that are searing her skin off. Eyes fluttering closed; eyelashes crusted and wet. There is something foreign and lost creeping up her dry eyes and _fuckfuckfuck,_ Kagura really doesn't want to cry right now, but goddammit, old habits die hard.

Her eyes sting and burn, but that is not when she notices that she has yet to feel something painful and reminisce drip down her eyes, or the fact that her whole body is aching terribly at the moment, until she looks to the skies and for a moment, she wonders if angels exist. For her eyes are enraptured in a pair of blue; jaded, clouded, darkened, but all the same eyes that mami gave birth to.

"Kamui," she rasps. She wants to say something, but the back of her throat is searing with untold regrets and blood. _What are you doing here?_

Baka-aniki doesn't say a word; nothing about the blood that won't clot, nothing about her sorry state as the rain seeps into her skin and tries to wash her clean of every sin she has committed, nothing about the same blue that stares back with as much intensity as she can muster before the curtain is drawn and in a few hours, in this desolate place filled with nothing but glass and broken things, china girl with become an empty husk of cold skin and red.

His stare is uncomfortable; intrusive, probing, _undesirable_. Most of all, Kagura finds it to be another form of bitter nostalgia and rain-scented memories. For baka-aniki has already left a long time ago and it's only Kamui at the moment. But something is holding her back, something from the back of her mind is screaming at her to get her sorry ass up and wrap her arms around him and run her hands through his hair like old times—

 _Stopstopstop_ , she says to herself and the delusions dancing around her mind. _I'm hallucinating._ There is a pause in between as she thinks bitterly. _I should've listened to Sadist when he said I needed a therapist. . ._

But nevertheless, salty hallucinations can be dealt with, so Kagura raises a bloodied hand and waves it in the air, waiting for the vision of baka-aniki to disappear so she can close her eyes and wait for the silence to take her.

"Imouto, what are you doing?"

Her hands immediately stiffens, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, "You're not—," cough, "supposed to be real."

The corners of his mouth crease upward into something that looks half-assed and empty, "Am I?"

Kagura closes her eyes. The feeling of glass or titanium doesn't drown her yet, and for Kagura, that's a win. "No."

"Really?" It is said with a lilt of interest and the quirk of the mouth. Kagura finds it disgusting.

"Were your smiles always like that?" She coughs again and tastes iron and salt and a pair of cold, jaded eyes. No moves are made. She doesn't stop talking. "That's a real shame, y'know." Her voice feels unfamiliar and haggard and now she's just babbling as a sorry excuse for her to not look at the red that is tainting, defiling, and practically enveloping her in what is yet to come and what she will soon experience.

She tries to take a breath, but there are too many cuts and bruises and blood, so she has to settle for shallow breaths and a shallow conversation, "I've been deceived by you all along."

"That's because you're stupid."

"And proud," she says and _what the hell am I doing?_

"Liar."

Now _that_ is the one thing that motivates her to bring her head up from the wall she has been leaning against, ignoring the pain that makes her bleed red and the voices in her head telling her so many things right now, but Kagura can only gape, mouth wide open like a fish and still trying to find her voice.

 _Why are we the monsters?_

 _No. No. No. No. No—_

Too late.

The weight of baka-aniki's filling voice crashes down on her, and just like that, Kagura slips. It is like being hit with a million boulders and drowning in liquid and somewhere in between, she finds the urge to stop whatever is trying to slip out of her. Painful and even suspenseful for the damn audience, but Kagura becomes desperate as she holds back something choked up and painful as she pictures her dead body and a crow plucking at her bones later, because getting saved is complete and utter bullshit. Because things like getting saved are for little girls who wear red dresses and pick fights with dirty bakufu dogs, and there is nothing that is going to save her this time. There is nothing that she holds power over because Once Upon a Time, she had a reason. Once Upon a Time, she worked for a perm-headed boss and fought with a samurai man and a glasses kid. Once Upon a Time, she was there when dreams were broken and realities came into play, and she hated every damn minute of it.

And Once Upon a Time, she witnessed the silence of three men.

"What utter bullshit." Despite her situation, her voice carries an inferno of broken syllables and blazing anger as her eyes are blue and beautiful and _alive._ They do all the talking as they gaze into his, and she is only going off of childish pride from not crying and the bitter tastes of anger and lingering distress that is still slipping down onto her and becoming demons; running down her bloody face and into her hair, her clothes, her blood, and when she sees the other pair of blue reflect hers, Kagura wants to cry.

And the anomaly in front of her is crouching right now, staring at her with the same color eyes that might be able to refract light and see into someone's soul; same color hair that is sticking to his face and making him look like the old Kamui—but Kagura knows better than that.

Both of his arms lurch forward, and Kagura doesn't know why she doesn't close her eyes or at least tries to avoid his touch, but there is something that smells like the hydrangeas that mami used to care for before she died, something that feels like papi and something that feels smooth and soft, but all of those thoughts are erased once she feels a pair of wet hands on the top of her head, picking out the unwanted things and some of the bad.

"Stop it," she immediately says.

His hands feel like magic in her hair, as much as she hates to admit it, but she is tired, so she puts up a sorry state of a fight that is put down with docile force.

"Stop it," it's less forceful this time, and she says it again; again, again, again, and _again_ , and no matter how embarrassingly futile her struggle is, he still manages to keep his hand on her head and pick out the good, the bad, and the grey in between. _Damn._

The bastard was always too perceptive for his own good. . .

Meanwhile, Kagura lays there; the upper half of her body propped up against a part of a wall that is nothing but trash and rubble from her fight with the dead yato lying several yards away from them; her bottom half laying limply on the floor, pushed down with gravity and the weight of ribbons soaked in water, and it is then when everything hits her for the millionth time and forces her to lay there, feeling the hazy ashes, the tiring feeling of shittiness, and the mortality all at once. Because she is exhausted beyond belief; because she is so done with looking at gravestones and bullshit and home and herself. And she secretly wishes for summer and spring and winter and fall to come back; where she was just Kagura-chan; all dolled up in red Chinese dresses and mafia accents and _innocence._

"You're not gonna cry yet, are ya?" Baka-aniki asks, hands not pausing once in working their magic.

Kagura musters everything she has into a snort and for every second of this moment, she hates herself.  
"No."

She never prided herself in her lying talents.

"You were always terrible at lying."

And just like that—

 _Just like that—_

—it slips.

Once those words leave his lips, Kagura feels just about the entirety of the situation dawn upon her and is about ready to lose herself; for the rain is still searing her skin and the alleyway of forgotten memories still remains forgotten as she feels her throat constrict and the hot red blaze dripping down her eyes and drowning her in salt, in water, and a cold hand on her forehead that signifies so many things that linger in between them—and she is _frustrated_ , humiliated to be stripped bare in front of the one person in the world she never wanted to show this side to, and the tears never stop. It is not just hotness coursing through her veins or ice that is daring to pool out of her as well; it is the sound of her walls being teared down and wrenched apart, and Kagura is terrified for life because breaking down in front of him means defeat. Breaking down in front of the person you detest—nope, that was a lie too—and showing him _that face_ —

 _Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop._

She can't stop.

God, this wasn't a Yato.

 _Be a Yato_ , she tells herself for the first time, and she doesn't realize how foreign, how incomprehensible those words seem to feel on her; her lips, her tongue, her teeth; and she doesn't understand the true meaning of it all until her throat cracks, and pretty soon after that the world crashes and shit just got real and in the midst of forgotten memories and spilled bottles and broken umbrellas, there is a yato witnessing the end.

"Nii-chan," she is a mess and fucking delirious at this point, but she doesn't give a flying shit whether or not he cares to listen or even bothers to acknowledge, but she feels like she is better with words right now than actions. "I never hated you."

His hand never strays from the spot on her head and she is semi-grateful that the warmth-laced magic hasn't faded yet. The moment passes like anything else that is flowing from her pale lips as she feels two rough hands lower and position themselves against both of her damp cheeks.

"You were always weak, imouto."

And before she even knows it, the sun has risen, and something old returns as she feels a small force on her forehead, and it feels like nii-chan all over again. Same hair, smooth smiles, story-teller nii-chan.

She thinks that those nicknames sound so much better than the ones he has now.

The pair of lips are warm and chaste against her wet and dirt-covered forehead, but this moment has magic and reassurance and _Nii-chan_ written all over it.

" _I have no use for weaklings."_

"I'm not weak, asshole."

His lips part from her forehead and just like that, the magic disappears along with all the red that is washing away. Nii-chan keeps both of his hands on her face. "You are."

Kagura tries to manage something tiresome as she quirks a part of her mouth up into something that doesn't seem so painful than the last time she did it, "The hell was that?" She can't seem to see past the jade and the tarnished sapphires, but then something inside of her mind registers the scent of hydrangeas, and it's like home all over again.

"Mami did that all the time, didn't she?"

Kagura doesn't have a chance to respond before a wave crashes over her and when the blackness comes, she does not see a light at the end of the tunnel.

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A/N: So, yeah. . .

God, I'm so tired right now, so forgive me if I made any mistakes. I only proofread it a couple of times and I don't think my eyes can stare at a computer screen much longer. . .

Feel free to PM me or leave a review if I made a mistake somewhere

Til next time~


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ch 2 is up!

 **madison camelia,** lolz it's okay. While I was writing this I was binging on chocolate in the middle of night thinking, "What the hell am I doing?" So while I was half-drunk on chocolate and probably lucidly dreaming, I came up with this nonsense xD.

 **Eizleina-chan,** Thanks dear, always happy that you like my stories ^.^

 **meowmeow814,** Ahaha, thanks a lot xD. Yep, this is after the Yorozuya when they *information shall be disclosed later on in story* and Kagura is left all alone. So due to the trauma, it's forced her to grow up; well, technically speaking, I think Kagura's already grown up. Since her family is the perfect definition of a dysfunctional family (father who rarely comes home, terminally ill mother, brother who doesn't give a damn about her), not to mention that the type of environment she lived in was practically for the strong rather than the weak. . .and I just went on a total rant on her family. . .haaaaahaaaaa. . . . .Well technically, I guess Kagura was forced to grow up again; live without a family, etc. etc. . .that sort of stuff.

I am so sorry that this didn't get to you guys sooner. I had this chapter all edited and everything. . .and then my internet broke down. Yep, I had to spend five days without any internet and it was _hell._ So thank you guys for patiently waiting for this.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GINTAMA IT BELONGS TO SORACHI HIDEAKI

Enjoy~

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Glass Fragments

Ch. 2: Acid

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The moment Kagura opens her eyes she sees a pair of jade and burning bright red.

"Took ya long enough."

His breath is warm, sending her dusted kisses that jolt her from the light that is nowhere near the end of the tunnel. " _Dammit,"_ she curses when she feels the full extent of the damage spreading like wild fire across her skin. Once she realizes that she is not dead and God must want her miserable, she immediately snaps her eyes wide open and demands, "How long?"

"Two days," he waggles a finger, "I'm disappointed imouto, thought you were stronger than that."

"I beat him in the end."

"Mn?" Kamui's eyes follow hers, which lands on the luxurious blood colored tatami mats. She doesn't even flinch; he supposes that the months have done a number on her.

"The guy who gave me the job told me he was harmless— _bullshit._ " She spits, "Took off an arm, yeah. . .snapped his neck just like that," she maneuvers two hands upwards and swishes— _slices_ them through the air like knives. There is an almost feral look in her eyes when her hands make the motion, but the abyss is far away and she is only at the shallow end of its wrath.

Kamui's eyes stay the same, aside from the slight tint of appraisal as he whistles, "Not bad. Still got a long way to go though."

Kagura waves a bandaged hand that is decorated with cuts and the smell of disinfectant, "Why am I here?" She looks around the room to see extravaganza everywhere. Velvet-tinted cushions glowing from the kerosene lights hovering over them like something that's worth remembering, tatami mats lining the whole entire room coupled with the ordinary futon she is lying in; "Wait," she says, pauses, then looks back to jaded eyes, "Isn't this—" She feels something wet building up around her eyes, but they don't fall. _Good_. Kagura keeps it like that.

"Yoshiwara?" Baka-aniki's quirked up lips morph into the Cheshire cat's smile as he sees her sapphire orbs light up with recognition, bitterness, and tears; of course, there's always tears.

" _Why—"_

"Did you forget?" Kamui swishes his hands and Kagura feels imaginary magic fly from his fingers, "I'm the overlord of this place."

Kagura says nothing as she presses a fist to her eyes and rubs away dewdrops filled with acid and salt. Baka-aniki merely observes, magic still evaporating from his fingertips as he taps the heel of his bare feet against the tatami flooring. At this mere motion, Kagura is immediately reminded of something old and dusty and placed in the small corner of her universe; and just like so many other things she has poorly patched up over the month with free-lance jobs and shitty glue, it comes crashing down.

Goddammit.

There are always tears in tragedies; Kagura has no more tears to spare because hers are all used up on perm-headed samurais and glasses-wearing otakus and just maybe sadistic bastards. There is no more room for big brother but her last statement is quickly wiped out once the prickling sensation is back and the scent of blood quickly floods her nostrils again.

" _Gin-chan?"_

" _Yeah?"_

" _How many people have you killed?"_

" _Depends, you?"_

" _Depends."_

" _Then there's no point in worrying about that now, right?"_

A month. A month of coping, a month of wasting away on old pictures and tobasco sauce and strawberry milk, a month of traveling and fighting, fighting, _fighting—_

 _Be a yato._

 _I can't,_ and that's when Kagura's mouth opens just a fraction and is overcome with the severity of everything once again as she opens her eyes _wide_ and is ready to scream and rage in delirium and do just about anything to block out the images of blood, blood, _blood_ —

But there is _always_ more, coming from an inconsiderable pair of lips that used to kiss her goodnight and read her bedtime stories—

"Just forget, imouto. They're not here anymore."

And once those words leave those cold lips, Kagura growls like a lioness who has lost everything and everyone and lets loose and stops the self-restraint she's placed on her body for years as she roars away with demons perched on top of her shoulders; whispering gore into her ears, chattering away in their little audience box on the sidelines. Kagura feels the blood rushing to every part of her body as she lunges and spins and ungracefully stampedes over self-caused craters because titanium china girl is taking over now and _god,_ it roars with red and salt and acid in her cracked song that is strung together with something ugly and useless.

She manages to force him to use his umbrella—but really, there is nothing appealing this situation right now because you don't just _forget about family._

 _Aniki's forgotten._

 _He's the only one who'd do that,_ she tries to convince some sinister part of herself and leaves it at that when she stumbles over the bandages and feels the stitches ripping away at her skin like the crows and the people on Earth—

 _Fucking Naraku._

 _Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead._

 _Gin-chan? Shinpachi? Sadist?_

 _They're all dead. No revenge to find._

 _Give up._

 _Forget._

Demons whisper; Kagura crouches; Baka-aniki lands a strike only after _two minutes;_ all hell breaks loose.

"Is that what you did, _Kamui?_ " She spits out his name like it's arsenic and pulls her mouth up into a something numb. Gone is her doped up thoughts on _nii-chan_ and _"don't leave, nii-chan"—_ something along those lines. The drugs are out of her system but her mind is clouded with thoughts stained with blood and rain and soury-sweet memories and _"You're still a weakling."_

She lunges again, twisting in the air and ripping even more stitches, but even if there is this hot, searing pain running down her back and into every nook and cranny of her body, you just don't _forget about family._

The smile she gives is horrifying, and it's a mirror of his own.

"Forget mami and leave because she was _dying?"_

Her response is a blow to the gut as she feel the wind knocked out of her and a fresh wave of red being coughed up in shallow heaves. There is no time to comprehend everything, but Kagura is a stubborn china girl, and china girls don't crack unless they're meant to. "Is that what it was all about, _huh?_ Do you even remember what mami's kisses felt like?—"

It's barely a whisper, but it's there. There is the one moment where Kagura just wishes she could take it all back, rewind everything that's happened and pull the stupid clock around so that baka-aniki's hair stayed black and mami still cared for the hydrangeas in their withered garden—

— _Because I sure can't remember what they felt like._

There is debris flying all around and kerosene lights highlighting the main event of catastrophic sins; velvet cushions torn and strewn everywhere like useless toys as baka-aniki's fist is _this close_ to her head, lodged in its very own personal crater as Kagura, having her back pinned against the floor, has only been able to barely dodge it.

She is still stubborn as ever.

"You don't just _forget_." She refuses to let him.

Kamui looks at her with jaded eyes filled with nothing but misconceptions and misdirections, but there is this _thing_ in his eyes that are not supposed to be there— _never_ supposed to be there, and it is something that makes her want to cry like when she was little _Kagura-chan._

"I don't remember what they felt like," he says softly, smiling emptily like all cold-hearted yatos are supposed to do and that's all it takes for Kagura to start the countdown of _nononononono_ and the shout of inconsistent profanities like she's fifteen again; stupid, naïve, annoying little girl. But she knows what she's saying, and it's along the lines of, _"Fucking bastard! You asshole of a brother! You don't forget about family! You don't forget about Mami!"—_

 _You don't forget about_ _ **me**_ _—_

 _Then why did you try to forget Gin-chan? Shinpachi? Sadist?_

Something crashes, crumbles, and that's all it takes.

The feeling of helpless is stronger than ever before as realization dawns upon her body and before Kagura even knows it, she can't stop. Gravity forces everything to cascade down her face in messy heaps and leave trails of so many complexities that she can't even begin to answer; across her neck and into the pool of blood that they are situated in. Titanium and rage simmering down; she doesn't sob one bit as she tries to remember back then, but all she can pick out are hazy moments filled with storytime and rain. And it is then when she can't choke back a sob, so she grinds her fists against her eyes to stop her from bleeding dry, to stop the numbness, to stop the emptiness trying to swallow her whole. Because the stench of blood and the rain-scented memories and the _demons_ on her back are waiting for her to forget, but she won't. She won't be like Kamui.

She _won't._

And yet, it's so painfully obvious that _that_ is a lie as well as she realizes she is just as dirty and tainted as the man who weaved magic through her hair and shot them from his fingertips.

"I don't remember them either," she finally whispers, something bitter yet truthful stretches her face and it _hurts_ to look at him at the moment because she is a bloody coward.

Silence is the thing that kills this time, as they are stoned in a massive crater filled with blood and straw and broken kerosene lights that hold remnants of the color of blood. Kagura feels hands pry away her fists and then there is something cold and soft against her cheek, but she never opens her eyes, because the magic only comes back for so long and despite the contradictions her mind is screaming out at the moment, she wants to stay doped up for as long as possible; with nii-chan's cheek resting against hers like old times; with mami's hydrangeas and rain-scented nostalgia; with his hands that wave the wand and weave the magic.

She feels a pair of cool lips against her ear.

"Then you know what it's like to forget."

There is ice in his voice.

And just like that, the magic is gone. Shattering upon millions and millions of tiny pieces in titanium and bitterness and _acid_ , the glasses are left for her to pick up as Kagura can no longer feel the cool on her cheek as the host of the man owning it stands up and steps towards the tatami door screens.

Once the sound of his quiet footsteps stop echoing through her ears, Kagura sits up, ignores the pain kissing her back, and cries.

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A/N: So, if you guys are still confused: Gintoki, Shinpachi, Okita, and practically the whole entire main cast was obliterated because of the Naraku trying to take over Edo. The Naraku do fail, however, that is only because the cast was able to stop them and in the process, lose their lives. Kagura was only spared because of her superior insanely enhanced senses and healing rate. I guess this could be considered an alternate storyline, where they all lose against the Naraku but the Naraku is dead as well and Edo lives in peace. . .that kind of thing.

Yes, stereotypical past storyline, I know. But I had to get rid of the main cast in order to create a broken Kagura soooooooo. . .yeah.

But I do believe that in my opinion, that storyline was probably the best option to go with. Naturally, when you look at it in a realistic perspective, people die in war. The main reason that no one in the Gintama cast doesn't die is because the show wouldn't be Gintama without the cast, and the cast is too amazingly powerful to be killed off. But most of them are only human, and because Gintoki was the main leader of this thing, every other cast member banded with him and helped in one way or another. Kagura, who is an amanto from a planet with the rule "kill or be killed," had the best chance of surviving because she is the only character besides the yato antagonists, Mutsu (well, she and Sakamoto are in space so they haven't heard about the tragedy), and Housen (who is already dead), who has superhuman strength and mind-boggling healing capabilities.

Also, I don't believe that Gintoki would've survived this. Remember, he is only human too, so before you guys start flaming me and throwing me strongly languaged PMs, I think that Gintoki would've died anyway. No offense to any Gintoki lovers (believe me, I love him too), but even if he were to slaughter Oboro or whoever the leading male is (I won't give out any spoilers), everyone else in Edo will be out there for his head. Because the Naraku would indeed pull some strings to see this man dead because good ol' Gin is just more than a thorn in their side.

Now then, regarding Umibouzu, if you guys still remember him (I almost forget lolz), he's not aware of her situation in this story. Technically speaking, since she was very young, he neglected his family to go space-pirate hunting. Not saying that he's a bad dad or anything, considering the fact that he loves Kagura very much, it's the fact that he's not present enough in her life to know the important things going on. Also, Kagura's already a grown woman in this story, so she expects him not to butt into her business anymore, and Umibouzu trusts her to take care of herself.

Wow, that was a long explanation. If you guys read through all of that then you get a free cookie. *hands out cookies* Oh and btw, have any of you guys read the latest chapter? O. M. G. I definitely didn't see that coming. . .

If you guys think there are plot bunnies in my opinion, feel free to leave a review or PM me.

Critiques are greatly appreciated.

Til next time~


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Ch 3 is up!

This chapter might be a little more mature than the others, so I advise you guys to read at your own risk.

Also, I plan to end this story in the next chapter, so I would like to thank you all in advance for reading, favoring, following, and reviewing this story! ^.^

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GINTAMA IT BELONGS TO SORACHI HIDEAKI

Enjoy~

* * *

Glass Fragments

Ch. 3: Demons

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She avoids her brother for two weeks.

During those two weeks, she's gotten to know that Abuto is still alive (that old bastard), and the fact that she feels much more comfortable with the courtesans who have treated her like glass rather than staying cooped up inside her room all day. Most probably her tender treatment was because she was their leader's sister, but Kagura didn't let that bother her. After all, once she had spent the first week in the presence of smiling masks and silkenly sweet voices, her lack of self-restraint resulted in a smashed table and a thoroughly rated R scene of profanities closely related to the word "fuck" and "those smiles don't work on me" shit.

Turns out, it worked.

Overall, the courtesans weren't that bad. They treated her equally after that, and after the first few days, Kagura supposes that the empty threat of her smashing their heads into the walls if they called her _Kagura-sama_ one more time became null. After all, if Kamui didn't say anything about it, then she was treated just as much as an average girl as she treated them. Although, those are only hazes to fill her thoughts most of the day, to stop her from thinking about the surface and the smell of spoiled milk and Otsu-chan's latest CD release. The outside world still feels like a dream in her head, and she doesn't dare take a step out of this cage in order to see the remnants of Yorozuya Gin-chan.

But of course, distractions are distractions, and after spending all of her time mingling with the courtesans and getting herself drunk beyond recognition, Kagura's haze disappears and back are the nightmares filled with red and blue and crows and _nii-chan._

And of course, after their particular moment in that tattered room filled with kerosene lights, Kagura has faith in the fact that he is doing his damn best to avoid her as well.

They are a cowardly pair of siblings, after all.

* * *

It is on one particular night Kagura surrenders herself to her nightmares.

There is the carcasses of crows and the smell of blood on white cloth practically _branding_ itself on Edo like a tattoo. She is fighting in the midst of the war, a blur of dirt-covered red and tears as she surrenders to her instincts and roars the way china girls aren't supposed to, but what else can she do? Let them die?

 _Let them die,_ they whisper—

There is black everywhere now as stacks and stacks of red find its way to every nook and cranny kept safely out of harm, and beyond those stacks are the bodies of samurais and stupid bakufu dogs and everyone else that had the chance to back out but didn't—and then it's just her. A bundle of tear-streaks and shaking knees; it suddenly rains where she is at as she ambles forward to a broken body stained with red and smelling of strawberries even in this unbearable heat; the scene she is witnessing is forever etched into her mind without regards to even her own mind registering the fact that _he is dead_.

 _Wake up Gin-chan._ She tries to shake him awake and _why isn't it working?_ It should work because she's done it before when he was half-drunk to oblivion and she had to lug him back home so _why aren't you waking up?_

The crow right next to his body spills onto his knees before heaving up blood and uttering something along the lines of "cursed demon, willingly destroying everything in your path." Oboro clenches the eroding staff as he brings it up, up, up, and _Goddammit move your fucking legs_ —

Kagura can only stare blandly at the sharpened end of the staff as it is raised higher and higher, and only then does she register the facts and the future and the fact that whatever she does now Sakata Gintoki will not wake up.

 _Do it,_ they say.

Kagura surrenders to her demons and never gives the crow the chance to fly.

" _Snapped his neck just like that."_

She is _falling, falling, falling,_ as she clutches the body close into her arms and rocks his head in her lap.

 _No. No. No. No. No._

 _Yes,_ they say. _Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes._

And before she knows it Kagura is doused in the waters of "it's just a dream," feels the wave overtake her, and makes a run for the bathroom.

Her heart constricts with every stride she takes as she wrenches the lid up and hovers over it. Doubled over, hunched shoulders and sore stitches and back in all its glory, Kagura hovers over the toilet, opens her mouth, and retches out demons.

She tries to be as quiet as possible, so as to not wake up anyone else; because she doesn't want their pity, doesn't want their worrying eyes over her because of the horror of the waves and the ugliness her demons possess and just because they can't do anything to stop it. But even as she tries to hold back her sobs and plague herself with memories of strawberries and the scent of sukonbu, Kagura is _terrified—_ Of the demons she's hosting, of the thought that she might get caught, of the ugly creatures that are crawling out of her like sins that won't ever be forgotten—but no one will comfort her in this sorry state. No courtesan, no yato, no Gin-chan is here to see a little girl holding back her pitiful sobs and retching into the toilet, to see her practically bleed out her sins because she can't handle the demons anymore. No courtesan is familiar enough to do so, and no yato is sympathetic enough to pull her hair back and wait for the tide to stop. No one will hear the cries of a China girl as much as she silently hopes for in the part of her mind that was left untouched after the war.

And yet, even though Kagura survived the finale and came out alive, she is terrified of everything else as of now; because the demons are jabbering louder than ever, showing her the flashes, the fleeting moments, the final scenes of the war as she retches and retches and _retches_ —but they still come.

It's an endless cycle, she thinks as she is hunched over and feels the demons wriggling around; in her hair, in her clothes, in _her_. She feels the monster chained up inside of her _laugh_ and sneer as it joins the party as Kagura pushes the lever and collapses to the floor. _Flush_ goes the toilet as broken china girl pulls her knees up to her chest and waits for the abyss to crash over her, but it never moves. It stays, in that exact spot as if saying "You're weak."

 _I'm not weak._

 _You are._

 _Stopstopstop._ Her legs seem to have a mind of its own as Kagura skittishly jumps up and buries her head in her arms. Standing like some little girl crouching behind the shadow of a mother, it takes her a few moments to realize that she is standing in front of a mirror that reflects something ugly and something unclean.

A tear-streaked and bleary-eyed face stares back at her. Broken pieces of china are falling to the floor and clinking away as Kagura slowly clenches and unclenches her fist at the horror in front of her. Because it's so dirty, so unclean, and so _cowardly_ almost to the point where she just wants to—

The ocean crashes over her again as Kagura is in a state of sick, sick, euphoric darkness, where the demons overtake her and are pulling her apart like some toy unworthy of their time—and when Kagura pulls up and arm and brushes a tear away from her cheek does she realize that the lights are out and mami isn't here and _why isn't Gin-chan saving her—?_

But as her arm falls back down there is another sick realization of _oh, that's right—_

"—he's not here."

And it happens again. Where silence is never a factor as the demons sing their song, the monster rattles, and Kagura slams both hands over her mouth and screams. Images pass by in jumbled up puzzle pieces, but Kagura remembers it all; remembers the flashes permanently etched into her brain as she whimpers into her hands and just wants it all to _stop._

But no. No. No. No. The demons are unrelenting as they whisper, utter, _scream_ through her wretchedness and _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—_

Her eyes are as wide as saucers as the mirror mirror on the wall reflects her true self; a blood-stained yato without a will and without a drive because everything is gone and _why am I smiling—?_

Her mouth is quirked up into something so familiar and something so unwanted she just wants to shut it out and throw it away as a memory from when she was fifteen and young and the _war_ —but she can't. She can't stop the stretching of her lips as they go wider, wider, wider—

And then it's her eyes.

For a moment, she wonders who they belong to, only to widen them even further and realize that they are cold, and they are beautiful, and they are so sad up to the point where the tears come again and _those aren't her eyes._ She shakes her head in apprehension, in horror, in shock; because what is staring at her is beautiful and irreparable glass and it is so _mortifying_ because she won't accept the fact that her brother's eyes are reflected in the mirror—and it slips.

 _Everything._ Her deranged mouth digresses into a trembling form of a wilting cupid's bow and trembling pink. Her hands are quick to move up to her face; prod around her puffy eyes and realize that _Oh my god it's my eyes—why are they my eyes? These aren't my eyes these are baka-aniki's eyes—_

Her screams are drowned out by demons as Kagura pulls back a fist and lashes forward in a flurry of blood and glass and _demons._ The mirror cracks into millions of broken pieces and flutters to the floor in the delusion of glittering snow in the dark—

 _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

Everything smells like blood now as china girl's mouth opens wide into a wordless scream as she descends into oblivion and waits for the world to crash and the mirror to repair itself and for the erasers to _erase her existence_ and the feral look in her eyes—

"Stop it."

And then it's as if someone has rang a bell and the world grows into silence. There are hands. She feels hands. Hands that are large and calloused and strangely warm as they cover both her eyes and pin both of her arms down in the meantime—hands that are pretty and rough and beautiful even when she thrashes against the touch and tries to convince herself again that _she is a monster._

"Stop it," the voice says again, and slowly, slowly, as if the world has given God the cue to descend upon the mortals and bless the holy ground, the demons shrink away against the blue and the monster digresses into a heap of something as it whines at the smooth, silky voice of _nii-chan._

"Nii-chan," she says in a moment of widened eyes and doped up confusion, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" _I'm sorry that my eyes became like that. I'm sorry that I forgot. I'm sorry that I never knew about you when I was little, I'm sorry that your eyes were so dull back then—_

Nii-chan doesn't say anything as Kagura continues her mantra of "I'm sorry, nii-chan, I'm sorry,"; he only readjusts their position and weaves magic into her as she sits in his lap like old times and cries into his magic-covered shirt. After what seems like hours—years— _millenniums_ , her wails slowly regress into quiet sniffles as nii-chan slowly moves his hands away from her eyes and runs them through her knotted hair, picking out the black and white and grey like he always does—

"I'm sorry." It is uttered so silently up to the point where Kagura has to strain her ears for the last part as she looks up at nii-chan and watches as half of his face is covered with red hair and pursed lips.

"Nii-ch—"

"Your eyes are blue," he says after a moment, a fleeting moment of _genuine_ passing through them as tear-stained eyes widen and _goddammit_ they water again. Confirmation. It's all confirmation as nii-chan uses his magic and makes her feel like Kagura-chan again, and there is the bright red blaze that is flickering through her with something warm and something forgotten. Kagura brings a dainty hand up to touch the reality and the warmness of his cheek and—

" _Nii-chan—I never hated you."_

"So are yours," she says without hesitation, watching as her hands pull back handfuls of hair, and it's _there._ It is there and it is beautiful and it is _blue._ So, so very blue. A clear abyss with mami's gleam and papi's ambition, and that's when more tears come and her lips quirk up into something lop-sided and _genuine_ for a china girl fixed with glue and nii-chan's magic—and it's enough.

"I never hated you," she says again, feeling the blue and the magic and the light being absorbed into her.

Nii-chan says nothing after that, only bringing a hand up to the back of her head and connecting her forehead with his. It's almost as if there are bells ringing around them and none of the umbrellas or bullets even come close to piercing this small salvation raining down upon them. Her forehead is still in contact with his, and Kagura allows this moment of _genuineness_ wash over her as heavy eyelids cover her blue and before she knows it, she is fast asleep in the arms of magic and the smell of rain-scented memories.

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A/N: Oh. My. God. I can't believe I got through this chapter. I'm not usually that good at keeping characters in character so I'm pretty sure you all want to flame me for the OOCness. . .*runs away*

as an extra note, I feel like I rushed this part of the story A LOT so feel free to leave a critique or pm if you found a mistake somewhere.

Critiques are greatly appreciated

Til next time~


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Last chapter is up!

So once again, thank you all for reading, reviewing, following, and favoring this story! Hope you guys enjoyed this.

I rushed through this with a cup of tea to go off on and one proofread, so if I made any mistake feel free to leave a review or PM me.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GINTAMA IT BELONGS TO SORACHI HIDEAKI

Enjoy~

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Glass Fragments

Ch. 4: Glass Fragments

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When she wakes up, there is a strange feeling of déjà vu as a face hovers just above hers.

"Took ya long enough," Baka-aniki says with a smile that makes Kagura furrow her brows in confusion. His disgusting mask is still there, but nii-chan and Kamui are showing bits and pieces of genuineness and something warm that makes Kagura remember the smell of rain and mami's hydrangeas.

Kagura takes this moment to look around and realize that they are still in the bathroom. Her arms are numb once she tries to move them and her puffy eyes dart around and register the fact that she is not in her own bed, but in Kamui's lap.

Kagura shifts her position so she can shoot him a tired glare filled with red and puffy eyes, "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

Baka-aniki shrugs, "You looked so peaceful, imouto. It would've be such a shame."

Kagura's breath is smooth, even, as she inhales, exhales, then recalls last night's events and remembers magic and blues and _nii-chan._

 _Inhale. Exhale._

"Nii-chan," she says. Kamui hums in response as his head is tipped upwards and his hands are still weaving magic into her hair.

"I never hated you."

"I know."

Just like that, the pieces are being woven back together. Kagura exhales again, more in relief than need as she feels nii-chan shift, magic still being woven and warmness still being spread. Her eyes then lock onto the glass fragments littering the floor from the mirror mirror on the wall like pieces of white ribbons stained with ink.

 _Oh well_ , she thinks. She's never needed mirrors to say in the first place.

And that's when she firmly plants her feet onto the ground and rises up. Baka-aniki's hands leave her hair and the magic disperses into the air and clings to her skin like scarlet butterflies. Kagura silently tips forward, reaching for broken pieces of ink-stained ribbons filled with apprehension and dull memories.

"Watcha doin'?" Kamui raises a brow as he stares at her in mild curiosity; his face is propped up with an arm that is relaxed on his knee, sitting criss-cross and all that jazz.

Kagura shrugs, strangely calm, "Picking up the pieces."

She starts with the left corner; glass fragments decorated with snippets of her blood and rage and insanity being picked up with as much tenderness as possible. Kagura's fingers twitch, then she bobs her head downwards and observes as a red line on her skin knits itself back together in a matter of seconds before picking up another piece and gingerly piling the corner. Much to her childish disbelief, it sways and topples over.

She is too startled to even move her hands up to salvage some of the damage, but what is done is done as the glass shatters into even more tinier pieces, and all Kagura can do is grit her teeth and sigh exasperatedly at her failure. Meanwhile, she is too discouraged in burying her head in between her knees to even notice the hands coming up from being her. As if a timer had went off, Kagura's head snaps up and turns to look at her brother, who is gingerly scooping up ink-stained glitter and setting it into the pile that already toppled and shattered into even more tinier pieces.

It takes her a while to even process what's going on, but when she finally finds words to say something, all that comes out is a meek, "What are you doing?"

Kamui doesn't pause in his ritual, and if he does, then it's only for a split-second before saying, "Picking up the pieces."

Kagura doesn't know what to say after that in between nii-chan's warmth and the large hands in front of her scooping up glittering pieces of ink-stained glass disguised as some ancient treasure. So after several minutes of the shuffling of glitter into tiny piles filled with nii-chan's magic, Kagura finally has the will to move both of her dainty hands and brush the surrounding glass into the piles; starting from the corners, then the middle, and then from behind her, pushing them over as they glisten like waves filled with diamonds.

They work in silence for the next hour, only stopping to readjust their positions once in a while and moving to different corners of the room to find the next piles and piles of glitter and ink-soaked ribbons—and they are determined to find them all.

Well, at least Kagura is.

"We should go visit mami," she says in between handfuls of cuts and scrapes and ink-stained ribbons filled with dull pain, "Her grave's probably still there."

Baka-aniki doesn't say anything, but at her notion he whips his head around and stares at her with the blue that told her bedtime stories and played with her when mami was too sick to even talk. After a few stiff moments, Kamui nods his head and turns back around to his section of glitter and magic, carefully piecing then and piling them up one by one until they become a sick parody of one of those castles in fairytales.

"When should we go?" Kamui asks, his ever-present smile filling in the silence as Kagura looks down at her cut up hands, and then back up at Kamui.

"When we finish picking up all the pieces." She says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Kamui continues to smile, smile _, smile,_ and Kagura still finds that disgusting, but she shuts her mouth and keeps quiet this time.

"That's gonna take a long time, 'y know," he finally says, lowering his head and looking at the waves of spilled diamonds filled with ink.

"Doesn't matter," Kagura says, digging her hands into the piles of glitter and sand and scooping them out at a steady pace, "Gin-chan used to say that when you wanna do something, you gotta do it. Doesn't matter how many years pass or if we're old and wrinkled, because we will eventually land there and _we_ _ **will**_ _visit her."_ There is a force in her voice that gives her more self-confidence than ever before as she pictures a silver-haired samurai standing under the sakura trees and holding a bottle of sake. " _We_ _ **will**_ _visit mami_ ," she repeats again.

There is silence for the rest of the few minutes as they do their goddamn best to not break it.

Then, "I'll get Abuto to pay for the tickets." Nii-chan says after a moment of silence.

"I'll start raiding the fridge." She says thoughtfully. Her pace quickens as she scoops at a more frantic speed.

"It's gonna take a long time, imouto." There is more shuffling on his side of the room as the fairytale castle is knocked over and all that's left is a pile of glass.

"There's always time, bastard." She shoots him a look and shuffles over to his side, making no move to rebuild anything or bring back the fairytales and magic that used to be there.

"Then when do _you_ wanna start?" he asks.

She shrugs, "Depends," but there is fire in her eyes and it burns bright at the imaginary smell of rain and grey-dusted graves.

"Now?" he asks.

"Now." She agrees.

They stand up simultaneously; Kamui prancing towards Abuto's room, Kagura making a dash for the kitchen; and as they leave, the pile of ink-stained ribbons does nothing but observe as it sits in the corner and gleams about the shadows of dried blood and lost dreams and poorly stitched-up realities filled with magic.

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A/N: As you guys may have noticed, I suck at making endings. I didn't really have an idea as to _how_ to end this story, so I'm sorry if you guys were expecting some action and angst (oh, the angst) but I chose for a peaceful resolution that's still in the process of healing. Hence, Kamui and Kagura's sudden decision to visit their mother's grave. In my opinion I liked this subtle ending, considering all of the angst I've piled in in recent chapter.

Once again, thank you all for reading this story and I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Til next story~


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